Page 147 of Playing With Fire

“Work. Apartment shit. Whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You want a fucking itinerary?”

“You two fighting or something” His eyes narrow.

“No.” The words come out way too quick.

“That sounded convincing.”

I glare at him but he just grins.

Asshole.

I’m trying to be vague even though I know way more details than I’d like to admit about the day-to-day life of the infuriating, beautiful brunette taking over my penthouse with her grumpy ass cat.

“She’s fine. Wilder House has been busy. She’s looked at three apartments and hated them all. She’s been hanging out with Avery at Midnight Press. Reading all the time.”

Declan’s mouth twitches.

I stop. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s that face?”

“Just wondering when you started keeping a fucking diary about my sister.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs. But he wouldn’t be laughing if he knew the things I did in the shower thinking about his sister reading in the room across the hall with her little pink vibrator.

A staffer calls his name from down the hall. Declan pushes off the wall, then pauses. “Thanks again. For letting her stay.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.” You definitely should not be thanking me.

“I know.” His expression sobers. “Still appreciate it. I know she’s safe with you.”

Twenty years of trust packed into six words.

“Yeah.” I swallow down the guilt.

He claps me on the shoulder and walks away. I should be thinking about the win. Instead I’m thinking about a shelf full of Jane Austen in my living room. And the fact that Delaney Beckett is staying until Halloween.

I should be counting down the days until I get my apartment back.

I’m not.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DELANEY

Idiscover that being good at boundaries is significantly easier when the person you’re trying to set boundaries with is rarely home.

By the time Bishop gets back from St. Louis, I’m asleep.

Sunday, the Phoenixes play Anaheim at two, and I spend the afternoon at Wilder House catching up on a pile of reader reports Liz swears can wait until Monday.